Journey's Ranch
by TalkJerseyToMe
Summary: A camp for teenagers with disabilities and one summer is all they've got to turn their lives around. Is that enough time to discover themselves and change their lives for the better? Multiple, slight pairings in later chapters. Characters are: Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman with Craig and Butters as somewhat important side characters.
1. Kyle

A/N: Hey, dudes. This is my first South Park fanfiction that I'm actually going to post anywhere so constructive criticism is **greatly **appreciated. If I can't promise anything else, I can promise proper grammar and spelling. This is just a basic introduction to this story, and there are no definite pairings yet because I'm trying to keep the focus of the story on the growth of the characters, but this will be rated T for its vulgar language that some may find offensive.

I hope you guys like this story, and if you have any questions, feel free to review or PM me

Enjoy.

_I don't want to be here_, the thought was loud and obtrusive in Kyle's mind as he stared at the intimidating gates of Journey's Ranch. It was a camp for adolescents aged 13 to 17 with disabilities, and as arrogant as it sounded, Kyle didn't feel like he was as disabled as the other teenagers there. These were children that couldn't learn properly, couldn't move their bodies, couldn't function in society- and Kyle felt that he could do all of those things exceptionally well. He was taking college courses at a local, community college, he had written a novel that was in the process of being published, he had even studied abroad in Israel, and he was only 16 years old.

It wasn't until he looked to his left and saw his mother signing to him that he was brought back to the harsh reality that he had elective mutism, and he hadn't spoken a word to anyone since he was 9 years old. He breathed a sigh through his nose before smiling at his mother and hoisting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, reading her hand signs to mean, _"Aren't you excited? You're going to make so many new friends here!"_

Honestly, Kyle hated that no one ever really spoke to him. His mother made it clear to everyone in his hometown that they were only to use sign language to Kyle aside from his teachers, of course. Initially, Kyle was offended when everyone stopped speaking to him all at once and assumed that it was a punishment for his silence. As time passed, though, Kyle realized that his mother only did that so he would feel equal to everyone else. He didn't need to speak if no one else did because he was still every bit as good as everyone else. Still, he felt isolated from the world when his family would abruptly stop speaking to each other in favor of signing to each other the moment he entered a room.

The camp was breath-taking, to say the very least. There were enormous builings towards the front, and Kyle could see pastures and horses off in the distance. The reservation was surrounded by lush forestry and beautiful flowers, cobblestone paths leading to each individual building and cabin. It was obvious that no expense had been spared to make the camp a welcoming environment, and Kyle felt guilt pool in his gut when he wondered what his parents had paid to send him there for the summer.

"All of the other campers are in their cabins right now. We're waiting for everyone to arrive before we begin the assembly in the auditorium." A female supervisor informed Kyle and his mother when they entered the front office, and Kyle noted that her name tag read, "Wendy." Her hair was a shiny ebony, her eyes were a deep brown, and her skin was light in a way that Kyle wasn't used to seeing back in California. "Ms. Victoria is in her office right now, Mrs. Broflovski, so if you would like to go speak to her before you leave, that's fine." Wendy continued, and Kyle swallowed hard. He'd never been away from his mother for very long, and it was just hitting him that he wouldn't be seeing her again until August when school started again.

"Oh yes, thank you, Wendy." Sheila chirped, turning around to face Kyle and give him a warm smile. Her hazel eyes were shiny with tears, and she pursed her lips before she hugged him to her bosom. "You be a good boy here, Kyle. Ma is just a phone call away if you need her, okay? Have a good time, Bubbeh." Sheila whispered, hugging him tighter before pulling back and walking down a long, narrow hallway. Kyle felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her heels click away, but he scolded himself for being such a wimp and straightened up.

"Are you excited for a great summer, Kyle?" Wendy asked him, snapping him from his thoughts. She was smiling brightly at him, and he worried that he was smiling stupidly at her, too, because the way she smiled made the corners of his mouth instantly jerk up. He nodded to her and quickly signed, _"I hope I make friends here." _Wendy's expression softened in response, and Kyle immediately felt embarrassed because he must've come across as a loner- which he was, but he didn't like people pitying him for it. "I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends here, Kyle. You've already made one." Wendy winked at him and patted his shoulder, and Kyle was thankful that his cheeks were already sunburned enough to conceal his blush.

"Shall we walk to your cabin?" Wendy offered after she scribbled something down on her clipboard, smiling in satisfaction when Kyle gave her a nod and picked up his bag again. "Alright," She motioned for Kyle to follow her out a door that led to yet another gate. "We like to ensure our campers' safety so we have this gate surrounding the cabins." Wendy explained, and Kyle vaguely noted that the gate was not as intimidating as the first one; not even as tall as the gates he scaled on a regular basis to get to otherwise inaccessible parts of the beach near his home.

As they walked, Wendy continued to tell him about all of the wonderful things he'd be doing at camp that summer, but Kyle got the feeling that she had simply memorized the text on the brochure so he tuned her out in lieu of trying to sign his reaction or attempting to create comical, facial expressions in response. Though, he jumped in surprise when he heard a boy exclaim something about a "shemale" when he and Wendy passed a cabin. Blinking in surprise, Kyle turned to Wendy and signed, _"What?" _Wendy pursed her lips to keep from chuckling at his puzzled expression and shook her head.

"That's the cabin for the boys with Tourette's Syndrome. Don't think anything of it, Kyle." Wendy waved her hand dismissively and ushered him towards another set of cabins that were located farther away from the main building than the others. Kyle scowled indignantly and self consciously tucked a scarlet curl behind his ear. His mother refused to let him get a haircut since long hair was the style in California, and his wild, fiery hair fell in waves all the way to his lower back so he kept it pulled up in a bun and often tried to hide it under a hat to avoid looking so androgynous. "Your hair is fine, Kyle. People in Colorado just aren't used to seeing that kind of style." Wendy assured him, patting his back before she jotted down something else on her clip board.

"Here we are. You are in cabin 12 with Stan Marsh, Eric Cartman, and Kenneth McCormick." Wendy told him, swinging open the screen door of the cabin and motioning for him to enter. "When the trumpet comes over the intercom, go to the auditorium for your orientation. It's right beside the main building we just came from." Wendy flashed a brief smile before she jogged back towards the main building, taking all of Kyle's confidence with her.

"You gonna come in or not?" A deep, raspy voice behind Kyle sent shivers down his spine, and he spun around to see a talking bundle of blankets on a bed toward the front of the cabin. Nodding even though he was sure the bundle couldn't see his face, Kyle stepped inside and closed the door, moving over to the bed across from the one with the mound of blankets because the two toward the back of the room had the other boys' belongings on them. The mound moved as soon as he did, though, and Kyle was met with two, round, azure eyes. "You're Kyle, right? My name is Stan. We have two other roommates, but those jerk offs are trying to see over the fence to the girls' cabins." Stan rolled his eyes, stretching out his arms and rolling his shoulders.

Stan was something of a spectacle to Kyle, who was from the Land of Spray Tans and Cosmetic Surgery. His hair was dark as night and came to his ears, curling slightly around his face and sticking up in odd places. His skin was sunkissed in a way that spray tans couldn't emulate, freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks, and he looked pretty muscular from what Kyle could see.

"You, uh. You don't talk much, do you?" Stan asked, giving Kyle a lop-sided smile. Kyle pursed his lips and shook his head, signing, _"I can't speak." _Stan's eyes instantly widened, and Kyle assumed that Stan was surprised that he was mute, but that assumption was thwarted when Stan's face burned bright red, and he said, "I, um. I don't know sign language." _Oh Moses_, Kyle thought, panic beginning to set in his chest. He hadn't thought about the possibility that his fellow campers wouldn't speak sign language, and as if a switch was flipped, Kyle felt completely cut off from the world. Seeming to sense Kyle's despair, Stan began frantically rummaging through a small, blue bag adjacent his bed.

"Oh, wait, but I have something you can use! My mom gave it to me so I could write down my schedules, and it was Hell to get the supervisors to let me have the markers- But yeah! Here," Stan revealed a small, dry erase board and a pack of markers, tossing them to Kyle and giving him a dopey smile when the redhead took the items gratefully. After a few seconds of furious squeaking, Kyle held up the white board with sloppily written letters on it, reading, "THANKS." Stan smiled and shook his head, tossing the blanket off of himself.

"Nah, don't mention it. It must suck to not be able to talk." Stan commented, and Kyle silently nodded his agreement, pursing his lips a moment before scribbling down, "What's your disability?" and flipping the board around to show Stan. "Heh," Stan chuckled bitterly, eyes downcast as he reached over the edge of the bed and pulled out a folded up wheelchair. "I got in a football accident 6 months ago. It fucked up my spine, and now I have partial paraplegia." he mumbled, staring down at his legs and subconsciously picking at the fabric of his jeans that were covering them. "I was the star quarterback for my high school's football team. I had football scholarships and everything, and now..." Stan sighed, swallowing audibly. His attention was deterred from himself, though, when Kyle began scribbling noisily on the white board.

"You get all the best parking spaces now, though," the board read when Kyle held it out to show Stan, and he looked so sincere and hopeful that Stan couldn't help but laugh and shake his head. "Yeah, I guess," he answered Kyle, grinning.

The door swung open just then, and two teenagers obnoxiously shoved their way in through the door. One, Kyle noted, was intimidating in stature and girth, built like a linebacker and lumbering like one, too. His hair looked to be the same length all the way around as if he cut it himself, and it was a color that Kyle associated with caramel. Vaguely, Kyle also noticed that the boy's nose was a bit small in proportion to the rest of his face, namely his large mouth and sizeable eyes. The other boy was far less interesting to look at, in Kyle's opinion, face hidden by the fabric of some ratty, orange parka that was covered in unidentifiable stains.

"How is it that out of 48 girls, none of them are hot babes?" the larger boy exclaimed to Stan, throwing his hands up in frustration and going to sit on the bed nearest the bathroom in the corner of the room. "Looks like it's gonna be a sausage fest from here on out, boys." he sighed, and Kyle cringed inwardly at his choice of wording.

"Nothing wrong with that." the other boy replied as he pulled down the hood of his parka and winked at Kyle with tantalizing, sapphire eyes. Kyle rolled his eyes, choosing not to look into that comment. "You're Kyle, right? My name's Kenny." the boy with the messy blonde hair, gapped teeth, and freckles introduced himself, shooting Kyle a lazy sort of smile and running a hand through his tussled hair.

"Watch it, Kinny. I'm in charge of you, and I'm not gonna be held responsible if you catch some weird, Jew curse." The boy, that Kyle had determined to be Eric, warned Kenny, and Kyle's head whipped around so he was glaring into the dark eyes of the larger boy seated across the room on a bed that didn't even look like it was made to hold someone of his size. _How does he even know that I'm Jewish?_ Kyle questioned, huffing through his nose and watching as the other boy's mouth widened into a smug grin. Without thinking, Kyle turned to Stan and signed, "How does he know my religion?"

Stan looked to be at a loss, scratching the back of his head, and Kyle almost reached for his white board, but Cartman's quick moving hands stopped him dead in his tracks. "I read your file." Eric signed with ease, making Kyle's lips purse while Kenny and Stan stared between them in silent confusion.

"You know, I've always wanted to be in the same camp as a Jew. Under different circumstances, of course, but still." Eric taunted, lips parting into a grin. In the blink of an eye, Kyle was on his feet, as was Cartman, standing in front of the taller boy with his fist twisted in the collar of his tee shirt.

"Whoa, whoa," Kenny laughed nervously, rushing over and attempting to get between Kyle and Eric but ultimately failing to pry Kyle's hand away from Eric. "Guys, chill. Is this any way to spend your first day at camp?" Kenny asked, and Kyle vaguely considered punching him, too.

"I don't have a problem. Do you, Kahl?" Eric asked, feigning innocence and raising his eyebrows in question. For a split second, Kyle's fist tightened, and his muscles tensed with the need to release his anger, but the sound of a trumpet sounded throughout the camp, and he released Cartman with a scowl.

"Good," Kenny sighed, not even endeavouring to hide the relief in his voice as he tossed his hood back up. "Let's get to the auditorium, yeah?" Kyle's nose twitched, and he shot Kenny a brief, indignant glance before going over to help Stan with his wheelchair. It seemed as though both his willingness to speak _and _his patience would be tested that summer.

The assembly/orientation was nothing special; exactly what Kyle had anticipated for a standard welcoming. Ms. Victoria, the camp director, had simply introduced them to the camp supervisors, told them their goals for their time at the camp, and explained to them all of the activities offered to them by the camp including equestrian classes, swimming sessions, group therapy, hiking, arts and crafts, and more. Kyle wasn't particularly interested in the activities aside from the arts and crafts sessions, but he supposed that he could give the other classes a chance since his parents were paying for the whole experience.

Stan had become increasingly more reserved as the assembly went on, gaze focused on his lap the entire time, and by the time it was over and they were dismissed for lunch in the mess hall, Stan had gone completely silent. No one aside from Kyle seemed to notice, though, so Kyle settled for trying to get answers out of Stan when he could get back to their cabin and to the white board.

"I'm really excited for those arts and crafts classes, f-fellas!" a younger boy with light blonde hair and soft blue eyes exclaimed at the lunch table, rubbing his knuckles together in a way that made Kyle grimace considering they looked to be raw from his excessive rubbing. The boy had introduced himself to the group as Butters, and he admitted that he was sent there for debilitating anxiety and paranoia, though Kyle could've guessed that without Butters having to admit to it. "Why are you here, Eric?" Butters asked after no one really made an attempt to converse over his previous statement.

"Because they made a mistake with my diagnosis and sent me here." Eric answered harshly, stuffing a chicken nugget into his mouth and making Butters tap his foot anxiously.

"Oh, but- What do you think they misdiagnosed you with?" Butters inquired, staring down at his tray of food and continuing to tap his foot, much to Kyle's annoyance.

"Asperger's." Eric muttered bitterly, finishing the remainder of his food and moving the crumbs around on his tray with a fork.

"Aw, well that's not s'bad." Butters assured Eric, flashing a tentative smile before turning his attention to the redhead who was childishly attempting to build a pyramid with his grapes. "What about you, Kyle?" Kyle felt his throat dry up, but before he could think about how to respond to that, Eric was already on the case.

"Kyle has elective mutism." he answered with a smirk, and Kyle was unsure of whether to feel relieved or pissed off that Cartman answered for him.

"Elective mutism? Ah, I think I watched a," Kenny started to say, but he paused and yawned groggily before continuing. "documentary about that. It's where you, like, don't speak to anyone outside of your family or some shit, right?" Kenny asked, staring intently at Kyle, who awkwardly shook his head, bright curls bouncing around his face.

"No, it's where someone refuses to speak to anyone." Eric informed Kenny, audaciously snatching a chicken nugget from Kyle's tray while Kyle rolled his eyes in response.

"What?" Stan spoke up for the first time during their lunch session, sitting up straighter in his wheelchair with his brow furrowed. "So it's not that you don't have the ability to speak- You just choose not to?" Stan questioned, looking to Kyle for answers. Kyle felt the color drain from his face, and he looked between Cartman and Stan helplessly. "What the fuck?" Stan hissed, shoving his tray away suddenly and making Butters jump in surprise.

"Dude, Stan, chill out. What's the matter?" Kenny asked the fuming raven, touching his shoulder in a futile effort to sate his anger. He recoiled immediately, though, when Stan smacked his hand away, glaring at him before turning his glare on Kyle.

"What's the matter?" he laughed humourlessly, shaking his head incredulously. "He _chooses _to have a fucking disability. I wish I could just choose whether or not I could walk, and I bet Butters wishes he could choose whether or not he would have panic attacks, but we don't have that luxury." Stan snapped loudly, lifting up the brakes on his wheelchair angrily. Kyle's emerald eyes were wide with perplexity, and his hands shook in his lap, heartbeat bouncing between his temples. He'd never had anyone react that way towards his mutism, and he was too stunned to be anything other than offended.

"Stan, calm down, okay?" Butters murmured, furiously rubbing his knuckles together and looking around the lunch room at the other teenagers whose gazes were focused on their table.

"Whatever, I'm going back to the cabin to take a nap." Stan muttered, jaw tight as he wheeled himself away from the table and out of the mess hall. Kyle's ears continued to ring, chest tight as he stared at the doors to the mess hall.

"Awe, did you two break up already? Summer love is so fleeting." Eric teased, snickering, and Kyle could vaguely make out the sounds of Kenny and Butters scolding the offending teen as Kyle tuned them all out.

He'd never been away from his mother for very long before, and he was beginning to understand the reason for that.

A/N: Well, that's it for chapter one. Let's see if anyone actually reads this. Everything in this chapter is there for a reason (even if it just seems like pointless information), and I have a lot planned for this story so expect longer and more eventful chapters in the future. Again, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated (as are reviews in general). I'll try to updates as soon as I can~


	2. Stan

A/N: Oh Moses, I've taken so long to update this story. I'm so sorry, dudes. I moved recently, and it's taken a while to get internet, but I have it now so hopefully the updates won't take this long to get posted in the future. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You were all so kind and encouraging, and I really appreciate it. Also, I recieved a question from someone who wanted to know what Kenny's disability is, and I just want to say that Kenny's disability will be revealed more clearly in the 4th chapter, but if you want to know now, please PM me, and I will let you know.

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter of _Journey's Ranch_.

Stan wasn't a bad guy. He didn't think so, at least. He was just a little more sensitive than most of the other people he'd met; just a little more compassionate and trusting. It had always hampered his ability to socialize with his peers. He couldn't fit into the stereotype of how a male was supposed to be, choosing to nurture butterflies over playing with toy cars; choosing to help others rather than focus on himself.

His mother always praised him for it and considered it a gift that her baby boy was so loving, but all the praise in the world wouldn't have helped Stan fit in with other kids his age. After too many lunches were eaten alone and too many recesses were spent hiding from bullies, Stan finally let go of his originality, opting to emulate the other boys in lieu of spending the rest of his days in a familiar emptiness. It took a lot of effort on Stan's part, and he always fell short in the end. He just wasn't a good enough liar to fit in with his peers.

Until the chilly day in August when Stan turned on the TV and saw his first football game; saw _the Denver Broncos_.

"I knew Kyle for a full 30 seconds, and I already trusted him," Stan muttered under his breath, his breathing coming in harsh gasps as he aggressively wheeled himself away from the mess hall and away from Kyle fucking Broflovski. "Why do I even bother with humanity anymore?" He scowled, vaguely aware of the fact that he had no idea where he was going but still furious enough to keep wheeling himself down the cobblestone path despite that fact. It wasn't until he nearly rammed himself into a gate that Stan realized he had wheeled himself all the way to the stables toward the back edge of the camp.

"You know, you're supposed to be in the mess hall." Stan stiffened when he heard a voice behind him, daring to crane his neck to look back at the woman who addressed him. She looked pretty statuesque from the angle Stan was seeing her, and after registering the fact that she was wearing a Journey's Ranch uniform, he wondered how someone so youthful-looking could be a supervisor at such a place. "Are you ok?" she asked, her ebony eyebrows drawing together with concern as she kneeled down by his wheelchair.

"Yeah," Stan answered a little too quickly, and he could feel his freckled cheeks beginning to burn when she gave him a friendly smile. He never was very skilled in the art of talking to girls, and he definitely wasn't experienced when it came to talking to _pretty _girls. "I just. Um. I just needed to get some fresh air. This is- It's just a lot to take in at once, you know? I wasn't trying to break any rules or anything, if I'm breaking any rules by doing- whatever it is I'm doing." he stammered, the words flying off his tongue like bullets out of a machine gun.

"Calm down," the woman said, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile. "You're not in trouble. Just make sure you have a supervisor with you the next time you want to go for some fresh air, okay?" she told him, and he nodded, letting out a breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I was just on my way to visit the horses," the woman mentioned. "If you want, we can both go visit them. You guys are free until dinner so we have plenty of time to visit the horses and get you back to your cabin."

"Really?" Stan brightened noticeably, his eyes wide and a tentative smile tugging at his lips. "That sounds great, actually." he said, his cheeks still burning slightly as the woman stood up and smiled down at him. "Oh, uh. I'm Stan, by the way."

"That's a nice name. I'm Wendy." the woman introduced, and Stan watched her fish a set of keys out of the pocket of her uniform, khaki pants before she unlocked the gates to the stables. The fire on his face was finally beginning to extinguish itself, and he wheeled himself after her.

For a while, Stan and Wendy went around each individual stable, treating the horses with oats, much to Stan's delight, and discussing whether it was moral or not to consume meat. It was nice for Stan to lose himself in the topics he was so very passionate about, and his cheeks were sore from grinning every time the horses neighed and waved their heads in response to him feeding them, but he came down from his excitement sooner than later. He felt his heart come up in his throat when they came to a stable harbouring a black horse without hind legs, its abdomen resting against a wooden box with wheels.

"Jesus Christ," Stan whispered, his voice cracking as he tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat. "What the heck happened to this one?" he asked, though he immediately regretted the way he phrased the question because he recalled being offended when his Unlce Jimbo tactlessly asked that same question upon seeing him in a wheelchair for the first time. Stan watched the way Wendy smiled and took some oats from her bag; the way she offered the food to the horse and patted his head when he ate just as she had done with all of the other horses.

"This is Jack. He's Ms. Victoria's favorite. They've been through a lot together," Wendy paused, withdrawing her hand and turning to look at Stan. "Why don't we brush him while we talk? He looks like he needs a good grooming." Wendy placed her hands on her hips, and Stan grinned, nodding and looking up at the horse. Jack leaned his head down just enough for Stan to pet him, but when Stan reached forward to do so, Jack quickly turned his head away and neighed, shaking his head up and down as if he was laughing at Stan.

"You ass." Stan muttered, snorting and rolling his eyes. Wendy seemed to find it humorous as well considering she pressed her wrist to her mouth and chuckled before leading Stan around to the entrance to the stables.

"He used to be a race horse, you know. That's why Ms. Victoria named him Jack." Wendy continued their previous conversation once she and Stan were situated in Jack's stall, Wendy combing out Jack's mane and Stan brushing Jack's side. "You know, after that nursery rhyme? _Jack, be nimble. Jack, be quick. Jack, jump over the candlestick_."

"So- His, uh. Disability. It's racing related?" Stan asked tentatively, not quite sure why we was trying so hard not to offend a horse that couldn't even understand him. Wendy shook her head, separating a section of the horse's hair into three pieces and beginning to braid it.

"Not quite. The barn he was in caught on fire, and he had to kick his way out through the flames. He ended up having his hind legs amputated because the burns were so severe, but 6 surgeries later, and he's good as new. Well, for the most part." Wendy explained, giving Jack's nose a few pats before going back to braiding his mane. Stan faltered in his combing but quickly returned to it, frowning a bit.

"That's so cheesy." Stan scoffed, brows furrowed. "Did she bring him here to _inspire _us?" Stan questioned, sounding somewhat disgusted and feeling guilty for it when Wendy shot him an indignant look.

"The methods we implicate here might seem cheesy to you, but they work. Jack has helped many, troubled children, and we value the effects these methods have on our campers over whether or not the methods themselves are impressive or creative." Wendy replied evenly, and Stan's gaze slipped to the ground. He had an awful tendency to be cynical and pessimistic, and it was another reason no one liked being in his company. "Don't look like that, Stanley." Wendy sighed, catching Stan's attention. Wendy ran her fingers through the braids in Jack's mane to undo them, moving to sit next to Stan on a bale of hay.

"Sorry." Stan apologized, scratching the back of his head and allowing Wendy to take the brush out of his hand so she could put the brush away.

"Don't be." Wendy gave Stan a gentle smile that made Stan's stomach flutter. "You want to tell me why you rushed away from the mess hall earlier?" Eyes widening slightly, Stan turned away from Wendy, staring at the door of the stall and picking at the fabric of his blue jeans.

"It's too real, you know?" he lied through his teeth, but the statement itself held some truth, his eyes watering slightly before he heard his father's voice bounce between his temples. _Buck up, Stanley. Dudes don't cry, and you can bet your ass they don't cry in front of chicks._ Stan took a deep breath and straightened up, his chest feeling tight as if it was struggling to contain the mess of sobs he had desperately held back for so long.

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked slowly, and Stan could tell she was being cautious. Self consciously, he wondered if he was making her uncomfortable and if she was regretting her earlier question for fear that he'd start crying.

"Just. That I'm here. That I'm not at home with my family. That I won't ever walk again." Stan's voice cracked suddenly, and his voice sounded strangled, but when Wendy touched his shoulder, he turned to look at her suddenly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Heh, nevermind. Can we just- I want to go back to my cabin now, if that's alright." Wendy seemed saddened by this, but she gave Stan a gentle smile and nodded.

"Of course."

The trek to the cabin felt a lot longer to Stan than the distance from the mess hall to the stables, but he supposed that was because he'd wheeled himself there like a maniac. He didn't speak much on the way back, either, opting to listen to Wendy inform him of the campers of Stan's age group's schedule for the next day. First, the campers would go to eat breakfast in the mess hall. Then, they would meet with the counselor in the morning to get acquainted. After that, they would all go to the lake until lunch time, when they would eat in the mess hall again. The rest of the day consisted of an hour of free time after lunch, a group therapy session before dinner in the mess hall, and story telling by a bonfire before bed. Stan was stupidly excited for all of those things, even though he offered only a simple smile to Wendy's excitement.

"Here we are," Wendy sighed as they reached the cabin, placing her hands on her hips and looking oddly satisfied in Stan's opinion, as if she'd just hiked up Mount Everest. "You have fun with your cabinmates, alright?" Stan felt his good mood dissipate at Wendy's words, quickly being replaced by dread and irritation. There would undoubtedly be some sort of confrontation between him and Kyle. A guilty grin plagued his features when he imagined taunting Kyle before tying the smaller boy's hands behind his back. _No rebuttal, Kyle? Hm. That's too bad._ Stan snorted before shaking his head. He wasn't _that_ big of an asshole.

"Okay, thanks, Wendy." Stan waved to her and started to wheel himself up the ramp to the porch of the cabin, but he stopped when he felt Wendy's hand on his upper back.

"You know, Stan...it's your mobility that's hindered. Not your ability to live a full life." Wendy said softly, and Stan nodded, unable to make himself look at her. He was too afraid that he'd turn into a blubbering mess.

"Yeah. Thanks." he told her quietly, only rolling himself up the ramp once he felt her hand leave his back.

Fortunately for Stan, Kyle wasn't in sight when he entered the cabin. However, he did spot his dry erase board and markers resting on his pillow, making his stomach churn a bit even though he'd been worried about how he was going to get his stuff back from Kyle. Some part of him felt like there should've been more of an effort to get his markers back, but mostly he was relieved that Kyle didn't seem to want to associate with him anymore than necessary, also.

Cartman, Butters, and Kenny were all on Cartman's bed with Kenny slumped against Cartman's shoulder while Cartman and Butters played cards. With a small smile, Stan noted that Kenny looked to be asleep against Cartman's shoulder, wondering if Kenny and Cartman were a thing. They did seem to be awfully close, and Stan got the feeling that they had a past.

"Kinny, wake the fuck up! It's your turn!" Cartman snapped, causing Stan to grimace and Butters to jump and cower away from Cartman. As Stan positioned himself on his own bed and folded his wheelchair to slide it under his bed, he saw Kenny lurch forward through his peripheral vision.

"Shit, what? I- Yeah, yeah. Uno, right? Uh. Okay, yeah. I got this." Kenny muttered, wiping at his eyes and shaking his head quickly before throwing a card onto the deck. Cartman looked somewhat impatient, and Butters just looked uncomfortable, tugging at the hem of his shirt and sucking at his lower lip.

"Where's Kyle?" Stan asked quietly, half expecting Kyle to be hiding under a bed or watching from a crack in the floorboards.

"Aw, you wanting to go apologize to your boyfriend? He was awfully upset after you yelled at him during lunch." Cartman cooed at Stan, and Stan could feel his face heating up.

"I didn't yell at him." he muttered, though he wasn't sure why he was defending himself. Butters hung his head low, and Kenny sighed.

"Kyle's taking a shower." Kenny answered simply, squeaking when Cartman pinched his arm for trying to look over at the fat ass's cards.

"What if he's drowning? He's been in there since we got back from lunch! Oh hamburgers, what if he passed out?!" Butters exclaimed, frantically looking between Cartman and Kenny.

"Butters, just stop. You're getting on my nerves. Kahl's fine. He's probably just try'na get the sand out of his vagina so calm your titties, alright?" Cartman sighed, and Stan scoffed and rolled his eyes, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "You know," Cartman spoke again, and Stan heard the bed creak as well as the floorboards as Cartman's heavy footsteps drew closer to him. "I can help you get back at him for pretending to have a disability." This picqued Stan's attention, and he rolled over to look at Cartman, who audaciously took a seat on the edge of Stan's bed.

"Who said I want to get back at him?" Stan questioned innocently, though he did want Kyle to know what it was like to suffer from a real disability.

"Oh come on, Stanley." Cartman replied sweetly, and Stan wrinkled his nose up in disgust of the use of his full name. "You know you want to. You don't even have to hurt him or anything. You can just...get him kicked out of camp." Cartman coaxed, using hand motions as he spoke. Stan frowned, propping himself up on his elbow.

"And...how do I do that?" Cartman seemed to ponder the question for a moment, pursing his thin lips before looking back at Stan.

"Just get him to speak. If he speaks, he isn't really mute, right? Just get him to speak, and it'll be obvious to everyone that he's faking it." Cartman answered, a malicious looking grin on his chubby face.

"Cartman, stay out of it." Kenny warned sternly from across the room, his eyes half lidded as he attempted to glare at the larger boy who simply shrugged in reply.

"It's whatever you wanna do, Stan. Do you really want to spend a whole summer with someone who's faking something like this?" Cartman asked before he stood up and went back over to sit with Kenny and Butters, leaving Stan to ponder his offer.

_Should I try to endure a summer with a lying asshole who gets some kind of kick out of pretending to be disabled, or should I humiliate and expose him in front of everyone so he gets thrown out?_

Maybe Stan wasn't as nice a guy as he thought.

A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but it's setting up some major side plots so I guess I'll just deal with it. There are probably a ton of mistakes, but I'll go back and revise this chapter later. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter, and if you have any suggestions for how I could make this story/my writing better, questions, or just a comment in general, please review. Thank you guys for reading, and I will post the new chapter as soon as I can~


	3. Cartman

(A/N: I've taken so long to update this so thank you guys for being so patient with this story. Also, the reason I haven't listed any pairings in the summary is because none of the pairings are rock solid. It may seem like one pairing during certain bits (There will definitely be a lot of implied Style and implied Kyman chapters), but then it may seem like another pairing right after that so I want it to feel as unpredictable to the readers as it does to the characters. Though, I do enjoy hearing about which pairings you guys ship in this so don't hesitate to tell me which ones you'd like to see. And for all the Kenny lovers, this chapter has more of him in it, and the next chapter follows Kenny solely. I would also like to clarify that sign language doesn't have as broad a vocabulary as verbal English so when Kyle uses sign language, I'll just be summarizing what he "says" so that no one gets confused on the meaning.)

Disclaimer (because I can't remember if I put this in any other chapter): I do not own South Park or any of the characters in this story. This is for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.

As always, reviews, comments, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! If you have any questions, you can leave them in a review or PM me. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter of _Journey's Ranch_:

"Time to wake up. Be in the mess hall in an hour." A counselor called through the cabin door, rapping his knuckles against the wood briefly. Cartman groaned in agitation, rolling over on the bed that was a little small in his opinion. He was met with the effervescent, azure eyes of Kenny, who was stretching on the bunk adjacent to Cartman. Cartman noted that the bags under Kenny's eyes looked more prominent than they had the day before, knowing that to mean that Kenny hadn't slept very well through the night.

"Morning, Aurora." Kenny greeted him with a grin, and Cartman snapped out of his groggy haze, scoffing at Kenny and pushing himself to sit up.

"Yeah, fuck you, Kinny. You look like a fucking raccoon." Cartman snapped irritably, running his fingers through his choppy, caramel hair and scowling as he tried to adjust to the harsh, morning air.

"Hey," Kenny held his hands up, eyebrows raised in a way that made it difficult for Cartman to read him. "Watch your language, dude. There's a kid present." Kenny snorted, and when Cartman only frowned slightly in response, Kenny motioned to a bunk towards the front of the cabin. Unruly, scarlet curls were the first thing Cartman saw, and he panicked slightly before it registered that he was at camp and not in his bedroom after another sleepover with the poor, blonde asshole.

"Oh, yeah. Kahl's only 16." Cartman snorted to himself. He, Kenny, and Stan were only 17 themselves, but somehow, that extra year felt important. Kyle's long curls came down to his lower back, and Cartman likened his hair to an octopus resting atop his head. Though, in the middle of imagining that an octopus was attempting to devour Kyle's slender body, Kyle turned to glare at Cartman, his fierce eyes like a potent absinthe. Cartman's eyes instinctively darted away from Kyle's, and he snickered obnoxiously. "Impeccable hair, Kahl."

"You guys are so loud." Stan moaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position and attempting to tame his multiple cow-licks by running his fingers lazily through his hair. Cartman heard Kenny chuckle and managed to make himself do the same, feeling a bubble of anxiety form in his stomach but attempting to ignore it. _Kenny's here. I'm fine,_ he thought to himself, tossing the covers off of his body and stripping shamelessly to begin getting dressed for the day.

"I could be louder if you're into that kind of thing." Kenny retorted, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he winked at Stan. Cartman wrinkled his nose up slightly, though he was quite used to hearing about Kenny's depraved, sexual antics.

"You're repugnant, Kinny." Cartman sighed, sliding on a pair of black, gym shorts and a plain, white shirt.

"Don't take forever in there." Stan's voice resounded from behind him, and Cartman turned to see Kyle standing by the bathroom door with his clothes hugged to his chest. Cartman was almost expecting to hear Kyle shout, but the redhead instead held up his middle finger to Stan before slamming the bathroom door closed.

"Well, there's one sign you can read." Cartman snorted to Stan without a smirk, stretching his arms and getting out the meal schedule from the drawer by his cot. He'd already had the meals memorized before he came to the camp, but he liked going over them just to be sure he knew exactly what he would be eating.

"Whatever. So, about the plan... Lunch, right?" Cartman listened to the cautious way that Stan spoke, and he watched with a bored expression and a nod as Stan began the hilariously tedious task of dressing himself.

"For fuck's sake, you guys. You're really going to try to get Kyle kicked out?" Kenny sighed, throwing on a plain, tee shirt that swallowed him whole as well as some shorts that did the same. Stan's brows furrowed together as he frowned, and Cartman felt his heart rate speed up again. _He's...mad? Or just upset? Maybe he's hurt,_ Cartman desperately attempted to decode Stan's expression, so caught up in his racing thoughts that he missed Stan's reply completely. As if sensing his distress, Kenny took a seat beside Cartman on the bed and placed a comforting hand on the larger boy's shoulder. "Just leave me out of it. Though, with Kyle gone, there's gonna be one less piece of eye candy here." Kenny continued, and Cartman snickered at how longing Kenny sounded.

"You're such a fag, Kinny."

"Well Kyle _does_ look pretty damn girly. You can like him and still consider yourself straight." Stan replied bitterly, impatiently struggling with re-assembling his wheelchair without falling off the bed.

"I suppose you could if you wanted to be general about it, but if you find him attractive knowing that he has male anatomy, you aren't entirely heterosexual. Maybe not homosexual, but definitely not strictly heterosexual. Even if the guy has long hair like Kahl." Cartman stated matter-of-factly, earning a questionable look from Stan.

"No, dude, I was joking. I was just- nevermind." Stan groaned, shaking his head and continuing to struggle with his wheelchair. _I messed up again?_ Cartman wondered, his eyes drifting to his lap. He was always doing that; misinterpreting the meaning behind someone's words and expressions. The only person he understood to an adequate degree was Kenny, and he often found himself grasping at straws with Kenny, too. It was as if the pitch of everyone's words was lost on his ears, and he was seeing their faces through foggy glasses. No matter how much he studied people, he was always the person that people scolded for not being sensitive enough or for making a joke at an inappropriate time, and he felt like a failure every time someone noticed he didn't quite fit in. _This is why you don't have any friends, Eric!_ He cringed at the all too familiar voice in his mind, feeling his stomach knot.

"Ah, sorry. Cartman and I just have a weird sense of humor," Kenny chuckled, patting Cartman's broad back reassuringly and smiling at Cartman, who looked over at him gratefully. "Me and Cartman are gonna head to breakfast now so you and your boy toy hurry up and meet us there." Kenny winked at Stan, snorting and grinning at Cartman.

"How are you doing, dude?" Cartman was startled out his daze when Kenny's hoarse voice invaded his mind, his hazel eyes looking over at the blonde, whose own eyes were narrowed slightly. "I mean, you looked really freaked out back there... Are you sure you can handle this? We can always just go back and-"

"No," Cartman snapped, glancing back at the cabin they'd just left in favor of getting breakfast before turning to glare at the trail. "I don't want to go home yet. I'll be fine." Cartman replied, his tone falling flat as he listened to the sound of leaves and rocks crumbling underneath his sneakers.

"Cartman," Kenny murmured gently, and Cartman started to snarl at him for not dropping the subject, but he felt Kenny's hand dig into his shoulder, and Cartman turned his body in time for Kenny to fall into his chest.

"Shit." Cartman whispered, eyes wide as he wrapped his arms around Kenny's waist.

"Sorry, just," Kenny whispered, breathing laboriously against Cartman's neck before pushing away from Cartman's chest and using Cartman's shoulder for balance. "I'm just really tired." Kenny muttered softly, rolling his shoulders and jogging in place to make himself more alert. Cartman nodded cautiously, watching as Kenny opened his eyes once more.

"Perhaps you should go back to the cabin. I can alert the counselors of your condition." Cartman offered, looking over the blonde as if a simple look could thoroughly assess Kenny's situation. Though, Kenny ignored his concern and continued walking. It was always like that. Kenny was always turning a blind eye to his own condition, and Cartman suspected that it had something to do with the fact that no one else really acknowledged it anymore; everyone else had grown indifferent to Kenny's "attacks." Even Cartman had to admit that he was becoming more and more desensitized to it.

"I'll talk to the counselor about getting some sleeping medicine after breakfast, and then I'll take a nap in the cabin until lunch time while you guys are down by the lake." Kenny mentioned after a few moments of silence. Cartman stiffened when his heart began pounding in his chest, and he folded his arms over his sizeable chest, glancing between the path and the mess hall.

"I should go back to the cabin with you, then."

"No, you should go have fun at the lake. I'll be fine, dude." Kenny assured Cartman, flashing a smile at him and making Cartman's stomach churn. He was awkward at best in social situations, and Kenny was usually the only reason he was ever included in social events in the first place. He just couldn't understand anyone, and although he would often get lonely, he always wished that he didn't have to interact with anyone at all.

"Yeah."

The meeting with Mr. Mackey was arduous and uncomfortable at best, and it ended up being cut short because Cartman refused to speak, insisting that there was nothing to talk about. Though, that was exactly the reason he was sent to the camp. His mother confided in his therapist that she was at her wit's end with him and his silence, and two weeks later, he was enduring the long car ride to Journey's Ranch. _I'm just someone else's problem right now, huh?_

"Cartman!" Cartman's breath caught in his throat when he heard the distinct voice of a woman shouting his name, and he looked over his shoulder to spot Ms. Testaburger standing at the water's edge and flailing her arms. Reality flooded his mind again, and took in his position, sitting in a canoe out on the lake. He couldn't remember how long he'd been wading in the canoe and reflecting on his meeting with Mr. Mackey, but he knew it must've been a long time since there was now a long line of children waiting for their turn on the canoe. "Eric, come back to shore!" Ms. Testaburger beckoned again, and Cartman scowled.

"I'm not finished yet," he called back, folding his arms over his chest and huffing. He liked the privacy the canoe gave him, and he wasn't ready to give it up just yet. Not until he could get his hands to stop shaking. "Go do something else!" he snapped irritably, not caring much for being polite. She got paid to deal with him, afterall.

"Eric, your turn is over! Please come back to shore! There are other things you can do instead!" Ms. Testaburger persisted, and Cartman scoffed, turning around to shout back at her but freezing when he noticed the other campers staring at him. _This is why you don't have any friends, Eric!_ He relented and began paddling back to the docks, frustrated and shaking more than he had been when he had gotten on the canoe in the first place.

"Here," he muttered indignantly as he clumsily got out of the canoe and pulled it onto the shore, avoiding the ravenous stares of the other campers.

"Thank you, Eric." Ms. Testaburger said softly, endeavouring to pat his back but stopping when he jerked away from her and narrowed his eyes. "Is there anything else you would like to do instead?" she asked, and Cartman ground his teeth together. She was probably annoyed with him for being so difficult, and there was nothing he hated more than people who pretended to understand or care for him.

"No." he said flatly, hugging his elbows and treading up the dock to find a place to sit. _I miss Kenny_, he thought somberly, swallowing the lump in his throat and scanning the ground for a place to sit. He spotted a place next to another group of teens, and he decided that Kenny would be happy if he made some other friends. _Just sit down. You'll be ok,_ he coaxed himself, muscles rigid as he sat down next to a boy with jet black hair and piercing, clear eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the diety-like boy spoke, revealing crooked teeth and a deep, nasal voice. Cartman frowned, looking up at the other boys who were also watching him with furrowed brows and curled lips.

"Sitting." Cartman answered plainly, unsure of what else they would think he was doing.

"Well stop." the boy spoke again, and Cartman found himself at an even greater loss with this boy because his tone and facial expression were completely void of any emotion that Cartman could try to decipher.

"Should I stand, then?" Cartman asked shortly, confused and losing patience with his attempt to figure out why he wasn't supposed to sit.

"Yeah. And walk off a cliff, Fatso." Laughter erupted from the group aside from the boy with the fucked up teeth, and Cartman felt his face beginning to burn. _They're making fun of me_, he fumed, standing up abruptly and clenching his fists at his sides. _I could beat him up if I wanted to. He looks like a skeleton, and I could feel his bones crack in my bare hands if I wanted to,_ Cartman's jaw clicked, and he glared down into the blank eyes of the raven who dared to call him fat. _This is why you don't have any friends, Eric!_

"I'm not fat; I'm big boned." Cartman replied evenly, turning and trudging off to find somewhere else to spend the rest of the morning. _You promised her you'd try to get better_, he thought, eyes stinging with tears that he would surely shed in private later. If it wasn't his social skills, it was his appearance that everyone found fault in, and back home, he could just harm anyone who crossed him. But this place wasn't home to him, and he promised his mother that he'd put an effort into camp.

Caramel eyes landed on a messy bun of scarlet curls, and Eric's feet involuntarily began walking in its direction. _Kyle_, he thought, still anxious but happy to at least see a familiar face. Plus, Kyle couldn't say anything mean for him sitting next to him. Said redhead was sitting far off from the dock, resting in the shade with his back against a tree and a book in his hands. Vaguely, Cartman admired the way Kyle pursed his lips as his eyes perused the worn pages of the book.

With Kenny's voice silently encouraging him in his mind, Cartman took as seat next to Kyle and brought his knees to his chest, refusing to meet eyes with Kyle. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kyle set his book down, though, and turn to face him, and Cartman felt his eyes burning again. He blinked furiously in a futile effort to rid himself of the tears, but the hot liquid spilled over onto his cheeks anyway, and on an impluse, he whipped his head around to glare at Kyle.

"What? I can't sit here, either?" he shouted, voice bubbling out of his throat like a sob. He anticipated the angry look Kyle gave to Stan that morning, and he was surprised to see the obvious look of concern on Kyle's face; surprised to be able to _read_ the look on Kyle's face. Kyle shook his head and moved to sit closer to Cartman, signing, _"Your hands are shaking."_ Cartman blinked stupidly before holding his hands in front of him, watching his fingers twitch. _"Are you cold?"_ Kyle asked before wrapping his smaller hands around Cartman's fingers.

"No," Cartman answered cautiously after a few moments of awkward silence, slightly surprised that Kyle's touch didn't hurt and aware of how idiotic that seemed now. "I'm fine." He pulled his hands away, wiping at his eyes and folding his arms over his chest. _"Why are you crying?"_ Kyle persisted, and Cartman scoffed, beginning to regret his decision to sit next to the nosy redhead. "What's it to an asshole like you?" he retorted, and he cracked a grin when Kyle's face turned the color of his hair. _I can read him so much easier than those other guys_, he thought, pleasantly perplexed at that observation.

"What are you reading?" Cartman asked, deciding to direct the conversation away from himself now that he was feeling less upset. Kyle held up a book with a distressed spine and _Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl_ printed on the cover. _"It is an old favorite,"_ Kyle signed, his face still glowing pink, but he looked more embarrassed than anything else. "You- You're interested in World War 2?" Cartman asked, barely able to contain himself. He would spend countless hours at the library as a child reading and researching WWII, and he could never seem to find anyone else who shared his passion.

_"Extremely,"_ Kyle signed, smiling lightly at Cartman, and that was all it took to send Cartman over the edge. It was as if a trigger went off in his mind, and he began involuntarily purging himself of his seemingly endless amount of information on the topic. He felt like his conscious and his mouth weren't connected, his mouth forming the words without his consent and certainly ruining any chance he had at a friendship with Kyle. Kenny didn't even like listening to him ramble about the Holocaust, and the kids at school stopped speaking to him altogether for fear that he would start going on about it again. _This is why you don't have any friends, Eric!_

The bell rang, the sound resounding between Cartman's temples and breaking the "spell" that kept his mouth moving. He swallowed hard, blinking a few times before anxiously looking over Kyle's expression. He knew that would most likely be the last time he and Kyle ever really talked, and he wanted to scream in frustration because _it wasn't his fault._ Though, Kyle's expression hadn't changed since Cartman began speaking, an oddly fascinated and adoring look on his face as he kept his rapt attention on the larger boy.

"You...were listening? Why? No one else likes hearing me gush about that stuff." Cartman muttered warily, watching Kyle tuck a stray curl behind his ear and look at him with abyssal, absinthe colored eyes. _"No one ever talks to me."_ Kyle pushed himself to his feet, putting his book in his bag and beginning to walk away before turning around and flashing Cartman a tentative smile. _"I like listening to you." _Cartman's eyes widened slightly, and the pounding of his heart in his chest was so forceful that his body trembled ever so slightly with it, stomach turning in knots as he watched Kyle's silhouette disappear past the gates.

**"Liar."**

(A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm trying to portray Asperger's Syndrome as best I can, but if anyone has any suggestions, I would love to hear them. As I said before, the next chapter focuses solely on Kenny, and after the next chapter, time will pass quicker because these first 4 chapters are to set up the initial conflicts. Also, in case anyone was confused, Cartman can read Kyle's emotions more easily because Kyle is more expressive. Since Kyle doesn't speak, people would have a hard time understanding his emotions if he wasn't physically expressive. If anyone has any questions, feel free to review or PM me. Constructive criticism and reviews in general are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!)


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